London Bells
by Astralis
Summary: Nick and Sara in London. Challenge response.


**LONDON BELLS**  
  
**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine.  
  
**A/N:** Response to forensicsfan's Ultimate Snickers Challenge. I've been wanting to write an N/S go to London fic for a while, so... All constructive criticism greatly appreciated.

* * *

London's Heathrow Airport is large enough on a good day, but when you've just flown twelve hours and are in unfamiliar territory for the first time, it's worse. It inevitably begins to resemble a labyrinthine monstrosity inhabited by strange and alien peoples.  
  
Sara Sidle was more than grateful for the reassuring presence of Nick Stokes by her side. The fact that Nick didn't know where he was going any more than she did was a relatively minor detail. So far, they'd made it through customs and immigration, much to Nick's delight ("It was about time I got some more stamps in my passport!") and now all they needed to do was get to their hotel.  
  
Some task that was going to be. Nick was fiddling, rather ineffectually, with a map of the London Underground. Sara took it from him and located Heathrow. "Well, at least we don't have to change trains."  
  
Nick peered over her shoulder. "Blue train, all the way, huh?"  
  
Sara frowned. "Piccadilly Line, Nick."  
  
"_Blue train_."  
  
Sara sighed, circled the Earl's Court tube station with a red pen, and shoved it into her pocket. Leaving Nick to push the trolley - because, after all, that was what he was for - and led the way to the tube station.  
  
To her great embarrassment, as soon as the next train pulled into the station Nick whipped out his digital camera and took a photo of the train. "It's going to be a long two weeks, isn't it?" she groaned as they dragged their suitcases aboard, ducking instinctively as a robotic force instructed all passengers to 'stand clear of the closing doors'.  
  
"Yes, and I love you too."  
  
"Good answer."

* * *

Many hours after they'd checked into the small bed and breakfast hotel in Earl's Court, Sara finally managed to force her eyes open. She rolled over and looked at the small alarm clock beside the bed. 11.43? She blinked twice, carefully, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things.  
  
That alarm had been set for eight thirty. She was sure about that one. _Stupid thing._ "Nick, wake up."  
  
He didn't move until she started poking him in the shoulder with one finger.  
  
"Is it breakfast time?" he asked, bleary eyed.  
  
"No, that happened a few hours ago."  
  
"Argh," said Nick.  
  
"Wake up." Sara poked him a few more times for good measure. "Hey, we're in London. What do you want to do today?"  
  
"I've got it. You've had a personality transplant."  
  
She sighed. "Yes. Of _course_."  
  
"I knew it."  
  
They lay in bed for a few more minutes, savouring the knowledge that they could lie in bed all day if they wanted. Having said that, the knowledge that they were finally in London, a trip that they'd planned for so many months, was more than enough to get them out of bed sooner rather than later.

* * *

Sara looked over the railing of London Bridge, looking down into the admittedly murky waters of the River Thames. When Nick put his arms around her from behind, she sighed happily and leaned back against him. "Can you believe Grissom let us have the time off?"  
  
"Let me have the time off, you mean. He's been trying to get up to use up your vacation time for months."  
  
"Well then, aren't you glad he let us have the time off at the same time?"  
  
"That's true," Nick mused, kissing the top of her head. "I think it was his way of making it up to us. He wasn't exactly pleased when we started dating."  
  
"Yeah, well," said Sara. It wasn't something she was in a hurry to remember, but things were much better now. The tensions in the lab had eased amazing amounts.  
  
"Lunchtime?" Nick asked hopefully, a few seconds later.  
  
"Is your mind always in your stomach?"  
  
"Not always," said Nick, seductively.  
  
"Huh."  
  
They peeled themselves away from the Thames and wandered off to explore the South Bank of the Thames in seach of lunch.  
  
They ate at a small, very English pub overlooking the Thames, and finished off the meal with jam roly-poly. Both passed on the spotted dick. "I'm not sure that I even want to find out what that is," Nick muttered, glaring at the menu.  
  
They spent the rest of the afternoon window shopping on Oxford Street, before wandering down Regent Street to Piccadilly Circus and then taking the tube back to the B&B.   
  
"Can you believe we're really here?" Nick asked, dropping onto their bed.  
  
"Not really," Sara murmured, content to lie beside him with her head on his shoulder.   
  
"Well, I'm glad you're here with me, anyway."  
  
"Me too."  
  
They lay there happily, listening to the sounds of London traffic outside their window, and the sound of each other's breathing.

* * *

THE END  
  
Yes, Spotted Dick is a real English pudding. 


End file.
